[Illustration:  Louis XV. and the Ambassador of Holland——­151]

The hopes of the nation were aroused.  “Have we, then, a king?” said M. d’Argenson.  Credit was given to the Duchess of Chateauroux, Louis XV.’s new favorite, for having excited this warlike ardor in the king.  Ypres and Menin had already surrendered after a few days’ open trenches; siege had just been laid to Furnes.  Marshal Noailles had proposed to move up the king’s household troops in order to make an impression upon the enemy.  “If they must needs be marched up,” replied Louis XV., “I do not wish to separate from my household:  verbum sap.”

[Illustration:  YPRES——­151]

The news which arrived from the army of Italy was equally encouraging; the Prince of Conde, seconded by Chevert, had forced the passage of the Alps.  “There will come some occasion when we shall do as well as the French have done,” wrote Count Campo-Santo, who, under Don Philip, commanded the Spanish detachment; “it is impossible to do better.”

Madame de Chateauroux had just arrived at Lille; there were already complaints in the army of the frequent absence of the king on his visits to her, when alarming news came to cause forgetfulness of court intrigues and dissatisfaction; the Austrians had effected the passage of the Rhine by surprise near Philipsburg; Elsass was invaded.  Marshal Coigny, who was under orders to defend it, had been enticed in the direction of Worms, by false moves on the part of Prince Charles of Lorraine, and had found great difficulty in recrossing the frontier.  “Here we are on the eve of a great crisis,” writes Louis XV. on the 7th of July.  It was at once decided that the king must move on Elsass to defend his threatened provinces.  The King of Prussia promised to enter Bohemia immediately with twenty thousand men, as the diversion was sure to be useful to France.  Louis XV. had already arrived at Metz, and Marshal Noailles pushed forward in order to unite all the corps.  On the 8th of August the king awoke in pain, prostrated by a violent headache; a few days later, all France was in consternation; the king was said to have been given over.

“The king’s danger was noised abroad throughout Paris in the middle of the night,” writes Voltaire [Siecle de Louis XV., p. 103]:  “everybody gets up, runs about, in confusion, not knowing whither to go.  The churches open at dead of night; nobody takes any more note of time, bed-time, or day-time, or meal-time.  Paris was beside itself; all the houses of officials were besieged by a continual crowd; knots collected, at all the cross-roads.  The people cried, ’If he should die, it will be for having marched to our aid.’  People accosted one another, questioned one another in the churches, without being the least acquainted.  There were many churches where the priest who pronounced the prayer for the king’s health interrupted the intoning with his tears, and the people responded